


Wonders of the Unknown

by enby0angel



Series: An Angel's Tarot Fics [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (it's Claudia... ow my heart), Angst, Canonical Character Death, Claudia practices Tarot, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Good Friend Derek Hale, Good Friend Scott McCall, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jackson is an asshole, M/M, Stiles practices Tarot, Tarot, Tarot Cards, Tarot Readings, but what else is new, soft Derek Hale, soft boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21680866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enby0angel/pseuds/enby0angel
Summary: From a young age, Stiles knew that his mother wasn't the same as other mothers.Scott's mother never talked in the wistful way Stiles' did. She never looked to the sky at night to study the stars, she never had incense burning in her house.She never read tarot cards, unlike Claudia who did self-readings religiously every morning and night.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: An Angel's Tarot Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036869
Comments: 9
Kudos: 231





	Wonders of the Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> First tarot fic!!! Yay!!  
> I plan to write many more tarot fic, some expanding on this universe maybe and some with other fandoms. Tarot are very important to me and I'm a lil salty that there aren't many tarot fics with my faves... so I'mma write them instead. :D
> 
> Slight note: I'm Australian and in Australia the age of consent is 16 unlike it being 18 in America, so that probably reflects in the fic. No smut or even implied sex though, but in my head they're less hesitant to be together just because... Stile is over 16... that's just the way I see the world pls forgive me :(((  
> And most of the spelling is Australian. Idk. Writing American characters is hard send help
> 
> Aaaaaaaanyway I hope you enjoy!!!
> 
> (First tarot fic, first Teen Wolf fic, first Sterek fic... bingo?)

From a young age, Stiles knew that his mother wasn't the same as other mothers.

Scott's mother never talked in the wistful way Stiles' did. She never looked to the sky at night to study the stars, she never had incense burning in her house.

She never read tarot cards, unlike Claudia who did self-readings religiously every morning and night.

Stiles didn't understand his mother's readings as a child, but he was always fascinated by them. He would watch his mother fan out her cards after dinner and choose one - sometimes she would contemplate the deck for a few minutes, and sometimes he would swear one had jumped into her hand.

Sometimes his father would join her at the table and ask her to do a reading for him with a sparkle in his eyes. Claudia would roll her eyes but agree, and her graceful hands would glide over the deck and she would speak in her low, gracious tone.

Noah later told Stiles that he never really understood tarot, but he loved and supported Claudia and, more importantly, trusted her and her judgement.

Stiles often asked her to tell him about the cards, and why she did it. She would run her hand through his hair and tell him, he was too young to worry about tarot just yet. He still had time to be carefree before delving into a world of mystery. He would learn when he needed guidance - the cards would always be waiting for him.

It was a week after Claudia had been diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia that she beckoned him over to her table, and placed the deck of cards in front of him.

Stiles learned well and quickly, almost as quickly as his mother deteriorated. He practiced on himself by giving himself single card readings morning and night just as his mother did, and by giving his mother readings when she couldn't do it herself.

He gave his father some readings, too. That always made Claudia happy.

Sometimes he gave Scott readings as well. Scott was like Noah - he didn't particularly understand it, perhaps didn't completely believe it, but he understood how important it was to Stiles and never told him to stop or even looked at him strangely for it.

Melissa always looked at him sadly.

One particular night, Stiles drew Death. The next morning's cards shook him to the core: Death Reversed, paired with the Eight of Swords.

That day, Stiles held his mother's hand as she died.

That was the last reading he did for a while. Claudia's cards rested in their pouch on Stiles' shelf as Stiles grieved. Scott asked him why he stopped, but stopped asking when he was met with silence.

Stiles was a smart kid, probably way too smart for his age. He knew about the stages of grief and recognised when he was going through each one. He just had to wait it out. He'd actually gone through Denial, Anger and Bargaining while his mother was still alive but suffering endlessly. Depression took the longest.

It was his twelfth birthday when he picked the cards up again. He deftly untied the bag and let the cards fall onto his bed. He stared at them for a little while, the worn and well-loved cards that his mother had held so dearly lying before him. He reached out and touched one of them and jumped at the spark of electricity that seemed to run through his veins, into his very soul. He smiled and began to shuffle the cards. When he deemed himself finished he pulled them together and fanned them out. The cards seemed to sing to him, glad to be out of their confinement, and he picked three with ease.

Before him sat the Three of Wands, the Three of Swords Reversed, and The Empress.

Stiles began to laugh. He laughed so hard tears began streaming down his cheeks, and Noah came running up the stairs. He found Stiles clutching his stomach and wiping his eyes, laughter subsiding to giggles.

"Mom's still here," Stiles laughed, holding the cards out to his father. "She's still looking out for us."

Noah's eyes widened at the sight of his wife's beloved tarot deck. "What do they mean?" he asked eventually.

Stiles's wide grin became a soft smile. "She's telling us to move on. It's time to look ahead."

Noah's eyes watered, and he knelt down and swept his son into a hug. "It's just like her to tell us to get our butts into gear, huh?" Stiles giggled and nodded. Noah moved back and ruffled Stiles' hair. "Well then kiddo, I suggest you get your butt downstairs and eat breakfast."

They never knew of their neighbour's wide smiles at the sound of their joined laughter for the first time in months.

  
  


From then on, Stiles returned to his old routine. He could never explain how the cards seem to hum to him some days, like they couldn't wait to tell him something. It was just like he’d seen his mother draw them: they jumped into his hands, buzzing and almost alive. Stiles swore he felt electric shocks go up his arms sometimes, or a burning sensation under his skin. He was never terrified by what he felt, only fascinated. His mother was still with him.

Scott still supported him. The first time he saw Stiles smile after Claudia’s death, he burst into tears and hugged him for ten minutes straight. Stiles held a lot of embarassing things over his friend’s head, but that was never one of them. They continued to grow together, and that was exactly how Stiles liked it.

  
  


Now, Stiles was definitely a spiritual person and he trusted what his mother’s cards told him (even if he missed a reading here and there), but that doesn’t always mean he made good decisions.

Case in point: sneaking Scott out into the woods to look at a dead body, getting caught by his father and lying through his teeth to ensure Scott didn’t get caught, being dragged home by his father, and leaving Scott in the woods alone.

Scott got bitten by a werewolf. Fun.

(Later, Stiles remembered that he had drawn Death that morning, and facepalmed. Heart of the cards stikes again, goddamnit…)

The next day after his reading (The Fool, the Ace of Cups, and the Eight of Swords Reversed), he went with Scott back out to the woods to look for his inhaler, and met _Derek fucking Hale_.

Damn.

Later that evening, after admitting to himself that yes, this new man in his life was absolutely _gorgeous_ and he would not mind a piece of that, his eyes widened and he dived for the cards he drew that morning.

New beginnings. New feelings. Self-acceptance. Intuition. Wonder.

With that, Stiles swore quite loudly. His mother would not have approved.

  
  


It was a few months of Derek sneaking in through his window, squashing his own feelings and slowly getting over his long-term crush on Lydia (who was actually smart as a whip, had enough witty comebacks to rival his own and was actually a damn good friend) later that Stiles found himself sitting at the dining table at Derek’s loft, listening to his pack ( _pack!_ ) throw around ideas about how to defeat the latest Big Bad (patent pending).

They were such _bad_ ideas that Stiles wasn’t even contributing. He was pretty much staring into space.

A whim suddenly came to him and he pulled the soft velvet pouch that held his mother’s tarot out of his jacket (bless inside pockets). The others were too busy arguing to notice how he quickly shuffled the deck on the table and pulled them all together again – he was getting very good at doing it quickly and in a small space. He fanned them out in his hands and ran his fingertips over them, mentally pleading _Pretty pretty please give me something I can use to help these idiots_.

None of them seemed to jump out at him, so he picked one and as soon as he saw it, he glared at it. The Two of Wands Reversed; playing it safe, bad planning. _You don’t say_. He looked heavenward and sighed as he slotted the card back into the deck.

“What, Stilinski?” he heard someone snap. Stiles looked over to see who else but Jackson glaring at him. “You got any better ideas?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “All of my ideas would be better ideas, I haven’t heard a good one yet.”

Jackson growled, low in his throat. “So why don’t you spit it out then, instead of staring at those stupid cards?”

Suddenly Stiles was fighting to keep his flare of rage at bay. Jackson could insult him as much as he liked, he didn’t care anymore, but going after his mother’s beloved tarot was coming dangerously close to crossing the line. “If you would stop arguing with everyone and give me some goddamn time to speak or think, maybe I would.

Jackson rolled his eyes and scoffed. “What, and playing cards are going to help you?”

“Tarot cards, actually,” Stiles said coolly. He saw a few interested looks, he noted Isaac and Erica looking curious, but Jackson’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“Oh god, you believe in that shit?”

Stiles’ rage became an eerie sense of calm. Never taking his eyes off of Jackson (despite Scott’s suddenly shocked and angry look), he slid the deck into the pouch and returned it to its pocket. He stood up. “Yes, actually,” he replied. “I do believe in ‘that shit’.” He air quoted the words. “And I don’t give a fuck what you believe or don’t believe, but given the fact that both of us are standing in a room full of werewolves and other supernatural beings, don’t you think that anything is possible?” With that, he reached down and grabbed his backpack, swinging it over his shoulders. He looked over at Derek. “Thanks for dinner. I’m gonna go now.”

He was stopped just before the door by Scott. “Hey,” he said gently. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, Scott,” Stiles said. “Dad wanted me home tonight anyway, and it’s getting kinda late.”

Scott didn’t look convinced, but he nodded anyway and let Stiles pass. Stiles clapped him on the shoulder, and left the loft to drive himself home.

  
  


Later that night, Stiles was reading a chapter ahead in one of his textbooks and absently wondering about the card he drew earlier (the Ace of Pentacles), when he a gut feeling told him to turn around.

There on his windowsill, was Derek, hand raised to knock. Stiles raised an eyebrow at him and waved him in. As soon as Derek had stepped into the room, Stiles asked, “Since when do you knock?”

“How’d you know I was there?” Derek asked in return.

Stiles shrugged. “Got a feeling.”

Derek looked confused, but didn’t push the issue. Instead he looked Stiles up and down. “Are you okay?”

Stiles shrugged again. “Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

“After what Jackson said today,” Derek elaborated. “I know those cards mean a lot to you.”

Now it was Stiles’ turn to be confused. “How do you know that?”

Derek shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked a little embarrassed. “You play with them when you’re nervous or stressed. You don’t take them to school, but you take them nearly everywhere else.”

Stiles was honestly shocked that Derek noticed so much. He ran a hand through his hair and looked to where the deck was sitting innocently on his desk. “Uh, yeah, they were...” _Oh fuck it,_ he decided. “They were my mom’s.” He saw Derek stiffen out of the corner of his eyes. “She used them every single day. She wouldn’t start teaching me until she got sick, and I’ve pretty much used them ever since. I do read them because I believe in them and I trust them, but it also helps me feel like I’m keeping her close, y’know?”

He looked back over at Derek and was surprised to see him smiling gently, not even trying to hide it. His smile fell a bit as he asked, “What happened to your mom?”

Stiles bit his lip. “Frontotemporal dimensia,” he answered honestly. “She taught me when she was lucid, but other days she couldn’t remember anything. I had to teach myself a bit.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

Derek now looked nervous again. “I never really understood them,” he admitted, “but I’m glad you still have something of her.”

Stiles smiled honestly at him. “Me too. And I understand they’re not for everyone.”

Derek coughed. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” he said stiffly. “I’ll let you be, then.”

He had turned back to the window and had started opening it when Stiles suddenly had the urge to do something very, very stupid. So, of course, he did it.

“Derek, wait,” he blurted out, launching out of his seat. In two strides he had crossed the room, caught the man’s face in his hands and kissed him.

Derek was a werewolf. He had plenty of speed and strength to dodge Stiles or push him away, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled Stiles closer and suddenly Stiles was having the best first kiss of his life, neatly folded into the arms of the man he’d been wanting since they met.

Opportunity: taken.

When Derek gently broke the kiss he didn’t go far, though Stiles could feel the hesitation in the man’s every muscle. “What was that for?” Derek asked softly.

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles grinned. “I’ve wanted to do that for months.”

“Really?”

Stiles could hardly believe the disbelief in Derek’s voice. “Really,” he insisted. He moved his arms from where they’d been wound around Derek’s neck to rest them on his shoulders. “But thank you. For believing in me.” Derek’s disbelief turned into a gentle smile again, and what wouldn’t Stiles give to see that more often. Instead of answering, he kissed Stiles’ forehead, and Stiles pulled him down for a proper kiss which was happily given. It was gentle and sweet and slow and absolutely perfect.

In that moment, they had all the time in the world.

  
  


The next morning, Stiles drew three cards: The Empress, The Sun, and The Star. He sighed contentedly, running his hands over the cards.

“Everything okay?” Derek asked, voice rough from sleep as he draped his arms over Stiles’ neck from behind.

Stiles smiled, and picked up The Empress. “I think mom’s congratulating us,” he answered honestly.

Derek chastely kissed his neck, and Stiles leaned back into the warm embrace.

  
  


(Scott had taken one look at him and clapped him on the back, laughing that it was about time.

Stiles suddenly realised that he and Derek had been building up to this for a while.

He decides that Scott’s an asshole.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


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